Throttle Sixty-Five

Commodore Bellowsti of the Special Quadrant Nine Stealth Task Force thought that everything was going rather well.

His plan had been meticulously created over the course of entire seasons. They had rehearsed the entire set of movements they would be taking twice in an uninhabited and uninteresting system on the edges of Federation space, including a few scenarios where the Bolgians had an unlikely number of vessels with an equally unlikely amount of capability.

He had tried to foresee as many possible routes to failure as he could, and prepared for most of them. The captains under his command had grumbled that perhaps he was taking things too far, but that had only been between themselves, and a certain amount of complaining was to be expected from one’s subordinates.

In reality, anyone with even a slight bit of tactical acumen could observe the manoeuvres he was accomplishing with the fleet he had. So few vessels, outnumbered quite substantially, shouldn’t have been able to do as well as they had so far.

Their success was down to his minute preparations and careful planning.

The first stage had gone flawlessly. The Tyrant Cracker racers had been surprisingly competent for a group of disjointed civilians. They broke past the blockade and wreaked havoc planetside.

Commodore Bellowsti hadn’t had too much time to pore over the details of the race itself, but he had noticed the use of a few weapons systems that were… perhaps above and beyond what a civilian should have had. He didn’t care, truly. As long as they were being used in his favour, then they could use whatever they wanted.

If the race-participants used war-crime worthy tools to win, then that was their issue. He was in no way legally involved with that.

One of the racers caught on to the movements of the stealth fleet, and the pattern they were using for asteroid dispersal and pushed the news around.

Unfortunate, but most of his contingencies involved the Bolgians finding out. In fact, he was prepared for them to start moving much sooner than they did. They were slow on the uptake, which was fine. The Bolgian fleet still outnumbered and outgunned his own task force enough that he would take any advantage he could get.

He trusted his plan. But he was also aware of how easily it could go awry.

If… no, when it succeeded, he would be fast-tracked for promotion to rear-admiral. A successful mission with so many points of failure carried out so meticulously was exactly the kind of thing the Federation military analysts looked for when searching for promotion candidates. It was second only to internal connections within the government, and he had plenty of those as well.

“Sir, we have something,” one of his communications officers said. Bellowsti waited for the flag captain to reach the station first before he walked over to it. It was only proper that he respect the captain aboard his own vessel. So far, their relationship was entirely professional, though they were thawing towards each other. The flag captain would rise in the ranks one day, and it would be good to know them.

“What is it?” the flag captain asked as it held onto some of the gripping bars above and below. Being a borel afforded the captain plenty of ways to hang on in the low-gravity environment of the main bridge.

“A transmission from one of our cruisers, sir,” the communications officer said.

They listened as a voice that was distinctly not one of their captains, spoke. The line was crisp and smooth, with none of the slight artefacts he was used to hearing in their intra-fleet communications. That was all he could really decipher, as the speaker was talking in a language he was wholly unfamiliar with.

Then the translation kicked in and Commodore Bollowsti paused to take in the ramifications.

“It’s a false transmission,” the flag captain said. “From the Bolgians. They must have either a spy aboard the cruiser or some way of spoofing our communication systems. Increase to security level four. Make sure we’re all using the same encryptions across the fleet.”

“Yes sir,” the communication’s officer said.

Commodore Bellowsti stayed by the station and listened. He was well-versed in Federation law, and had had to research plenty about war crimes and their punishments while discarding ideas for his current plan. He was skirting several laws already.

From what he could tell, the person on the other end of the line was doing the same.

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“Flag Captain, I think this might be more than just a ruse,” he said.

“Oh?” the flag captain asked.

Bellowsti walked over to the strategic display, which held the positions of every ship in the fleet. The cruiser in question was, at a glance, in exactly the position he would want it to be in if he were in command of it and was preparing to betray the rest of the fleet.

The messages continued and he listened to their translations. He was actually thankful that they were so wordy, it gave him time to think.

With a few taps to a screen, he rewound the display of the fleet’s actions, paying particular attention to the cruiser in question. There was a moment a few minutes ago when the ship’s working thrusters had jittered then resumed working, though slightly differently. A bug in the system, or someone trying to reconnect something after the damage they sustained.

Or, someone new taking control of the ship’s thrusters and adjusting them minutely.

He went further back, to the explosion of the EMP that one insane racer had dropped before they rammed into the ship’s side.

The racer wasn’t a known quantity. He pulled up what they had on them and it was startlingly little. That could mean that they were a Bolgian plant.

Were, because he doubted anyone could survive a crash like that. It was a foolish attempt to take out a much larger vessel, but… perhaps it could have worked.

In the math of war, trading a small vessel like that for a cruiser was a great play. And had the smaller vessel hit in just the right place, it might well have crippled the cruiser.

He didn’t want that. For his operation to be a success, he needed to come out of it with minimal losses.

The ship shook, and he held on. The Bolgians were coming closer. Soon they’d fly right past them and start a long game of chase where he had the advantage. There were hidden minefields on the periphery of the system that they’d use to great effect, and explosive charges set against asteroids which could be detonated to send thousands of pieces of debris flying through a section of space.

It was all about the timing, and with a well-coordinated fleet, he had every advantage.

Something still bothered him about the transmission. If it was a distraction, then it was a stupid one. Why the unknown language?

Was it real?

He listened in on another part of it. “If the Federation deigns to assault this vessel, then all military actions will be met with force in kind. If you have further issues, you can communicate them to the appropriate legal offices in the nearest Federation court in the… Volgo system. Thank you!”

“Hold fire,” he ordered.

The officer at the weapon’s station jumped, but was quick to relay the order. It was sent out to the other ships as well, and soon the entire fleet was waiting, tense and ready to resume.

“What are you ordering that for?” the flag captain asked.

“I suspect the cruiser really has been captured,” he replied. “Equalize shields, prepare to designate the cruiser as an enemy target.”

“You cannot be serious?” the captain asked, though the borel had the decency to ask it in a lower voice, and from closer up so that the crew wouldn’t overhear any insubordination.

“I don’t plan on losing,” Commodore Bellowsti said. “So I will take precautions not to.”

“Bolgian fleet is entering medium weapons range,” the weapon’s station said.

“Resume fire,” he said.

There was a light reverberation through the deck as the flag cruiser opened up again. The lead Bolgian ships would soon be weathering a lot of fire.

The transmission from their fourth cruiser resumed, and he noted that it wasn’t opening fire with the rest of the fleet. “I see that you have continued to fire upon residents of the system. In accordance with protocols and the following provisions…” A voice filled the silence. An obviously mechanical one, like some races used when they couldn’t vocalise a more commonly spoken language. It was all legal jargon which eventually cut back to the same speaker as before. “That continued assault will be considered an act of war in violation of any previous agreements between us. We, thereby, will act in kind. Please prepare for imminent assault.”

Commodore Bellowsti walked with some swiftness back to his command seat and started to buckle himself in. “All ships,” he said on an open channel. “Prepare for impacts. One of our vessels has gone rogue.”

A second after that, the first short-range railgun impact hit his flagship from the rear.

***